


Overtime

by Roga



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Hockey RPF, Sports Night
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, New York Islanders, New York Rangers, but where hockey plays a part anyway, does not actually include specific hockey rpf dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/pseuds/Roga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Casey (don't) cover a game that never ends. Well, almost.</p><p><b>Repost</b> of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/224366">Overtime</a>, which was originally posted in three parts for Purimgifts 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely [Tieleen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tieleen) for Purimgifts earlier this year; reposted now so I can have the whole fic in one place, and also because there was a [triple overtime game](http://www.si.com/nhl/2015/05/20/chicago-blackhawks-anaheim-ducks-game-2-triple-overtime) last night, which is always opportunity for... fics about overtime games! And hey, apparently the fic originally took place on May 20th, so that's as good a reason as any. :D
> 
> I don't think I need to warn for crack, but, you know. Crack.

**_May 20th, 2016._**

_**10:00 PM.**_

Dan's shoes announce his presence with a series of measured squeaks as he reenters the office. He flips through his legal pad, sinking into the couch with an _oof_.

"So," he starts, crossing out four lines of unfortunate puns, "I think I need a better intro for the third—"

"Shhhh!"

The collective shush rises from the assorted people who have taken occupancy in Dan and Casey's not exactly oversized office. None of them seem to be overly concerned with work.

Dan clears his throat. "Much as I appreciate you all lounging around uselessly, don't we have a show to put on in an hour?"

Natalie waves vaguely at the flatscreen. "We're watching the hockey game," she says.

"So then, lounging around uselessly," Dan says.

"It's the _playoffs_ ," Jeremy points out.

"It's _hockey_ ," Dan says flatly. "No one cares."

"You're right, Dan, the city of New York does not care that the Eastern Conference Finals between the New York Rangers and the New York Islanders are taking place at this very moment on New York City grounds."

Dan swirls his pen between two fingers. "Now you get me."

Jeremy looks like he's about to say something, but bites his lip with a groan.

Casey looks at Dan from his perch on the couch's armrest. "You really enjoy doing that to him, don't you?"

Dan grins. "I really do."

The CSC theme music blares from the TV. "Aaaaand we're headed to overtime," Natalie says, leaping to her feet. "Kim, you working on splicing up—"

"Highlights, on it," Kim says.

"Overtime!" Natalie says again, with an excited grin. "Everybody loves overtime."

"Everybody except fans of the teams," Dana says. "Looking a little green there, Jer."

Jeremy swallows. "I'm good. The Islanders can do it. They shall persevere and return to their days of glory." He stands up, still looking a little queasy. "I'm going to go dig up some stats."

"Have fun with that," Dan says.

"Days of glory!" Jeremy tosses out to the bullpen as he exits. The others scatter – finally at least pretending to be busy - until it's only Dan and Casey in the office.

"I really could use a better intro for the third," Dan says.

"Depending on how the game goes, we might not have a third," Casey says. "Or a second. Or a first. We're not on till the game's over."

"Oh, come on," Dan says. "No way it's gonna be on that long."

Dan's phone rings from an unidentified number.

He picks up. "Yeah'llo?"

"Hey, Danny boy!" a cheerful voice sounds from the other end.

"Yes?"

"It's Jakey!"

"Uh…” Dan raises his eyebrows, exchanging a look with Casey. “Jakey what?"

"Your cousin Jake."

“I really don’t--”

“Second cousin. Jake Peralta. You hooked me up with Knicks tickets five years ago, I got you out of a parking ticket, absolutely no bribery or nepotism involved.”

The penny drops. "Oh. Hey man, how ya doin'?" 

Peralta sounds about as far removed from composed as can be.

"Haha, ha. Funny you should ask. I'm at the Barclays Center, and. See. We have a bit of a situation."

Dan listens. At the end of the call, he hangs up, and takes a breath.

“Well,” he tells Casey’s questioning look. “It seems there’s a possibility overtime actually _will_ take that long after all.”

*****

**_11:00 PM._ **

"Well," Natalie says, as the clock strikes 11, "I think we can safely say the show is definitely not starting on time."

Most of the crew's in the control room, watching the game on a side monitor, as the Rangers and Islanders battle in a second period of overtime, looking to break the 1-1 stalemate.

"I mean, they're good teams, right?" Chris frowns. "I don’t watch hockey, but I feel like they have to be to get to this level?"

"They're _good teams_ ," Jeremy says, and adds darkly, "at least one of them is."

"So why do they look like they're trying to lose?"

"That is ridiculous!" someone says loudly. "Ha! Ha!"

"Okay Boyle, time to go," says a woman, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the room.

Natalie blinks. "Anyone have any idea who those were?"

**__**

*

Detective Diaz drags Detective Boyle by the ear to Dan's office.

"Where did you disappear to?” Dan says.

“The puppy ran away,” Diaz says flatly.

Boyle ducks his head. “Sorry. I’ve just always wanted to see what the control room looks like. Huge fan.”

Diaz looks skeptical. “You watch _Sports Night_?”

“Oh no,” Boyle chuckles. “Huge fan of competent sound editing.”

Diaz rolls her eyes. “Anyway. That’s not what we’re here for.” She turns to Dan. “Peralta said you guys have an archive of game footage we can access.”

“Upstairs,” Dan says, and beckons them after him. “Case, let me know if they’ll need for the broadcast.”

Casey’s eyes are glued to the screen, where the Islanders have been playing keepaway for about five minutes. “Given that you just called both team owners and told them that if anyone wins the game before the cops finish doing their work someone might die, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Dan gives him a thumbs up. 

“Oh, that was you?” says Diaz, following Dan through the hallway. “Thanks man. Real solid.”

“Yeah, Jake and I are tight,” Dan says drily.

“He talks about you all the time,” Diaz says.

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“Actually,” Boyle says. “Sometimes when he’s trying to hit on girls.”

Diaz grunts. “That’s possible.”

“Well, here we are,” Dan says, letting them into the room, logging them in on two separate stations and showing them where to pull up tape from different angles. “Is there… anything I can do to help? Like I told you, we have a great team of researchers.”

Boyle rubs his hands together as he settles in. “Thank you, Mr. Rydell, but this perp is a master of disguise. Rosa and I just need to find--” he cracks his knuckles-- “his pattern.”

“Less talking, Boyle,” Diaz says, clicking away.

Dan leaves them to their work. 

**__**

*

In the control room where everyone is gathered, the game goes on. 

“This is torture,” Jeremy says. “Literal, actual torture.”

“There, there,” Natalie says, patting his back. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a worse game than this,” Dana says, riveted. 

One of the Rangers sends a long pass down the rink which is completely missed by both his teammates and the opposition. A fight breaks out. Six players are sent to the penalty box, three apiece.

“That seemed really necessary,” Natalie says.

Jeremy moans. “I want to die.”

During a timeout, the camera pans to some crowd shots, and the broadcasters happily talk over the KissCam. The camera pauses over a couple creeping up one of the aisles, who pause and freeze when they notice they’re on the jumbotron. For the fraction of a second their faces are visible, Dan recognizes not-very-covert Detective Jake Peralta.

The woman he’s with pushes up to kiss him, turning her back to the screen, hiding their faces. “Quick thinking,” Dan says under his breath. The camera cuts away.

The second overtime period ends, still tied at 1-1.

Dan takes a break from the thrilling action of nothing happening on the ice to go back to the office. 

"Any updates?" Casey asks when he sees him. 

Dan shrugs. 

"You know, I know you, but even I'm a little puzzled by your whole attitude towards this."

"Oh?"

"I mean, you just helped the NYPD contact two billionaires and got them to order their employees to play badly for as long as it takes for the cops to catch some bad guys disguised somewhere in the arena."

"Yup."

"We're essentially watching an action movie unfold in front of us. Can't stop playing till it's done. This is like _Speed_."

"Except more like _Slow_."

"And still. Lives are on the line! Our show's been cancelled--"

"--postponed--"

"--postponed, and here you are, just... shrugging it away."

Dan nods. "You know what would make me, you know, care."

Casey sighs. "If it were baseball."

"If it were, say, baseball," Dan agrees.

On the TV, analysts from two floors down are discussing the Rangers' abysmal powerplay, and the Islanders' equally abysmal penalty-taking.

"Well," Dan says, folding his hands behind his head. "At least I don't have to think of a good pun for the third."

Casey snorts. "Oh, I threw my script in the trash twenty minutes ago."

Ten minutes later, the third period of overtime begins.

*****

**_May 21st, 2016._ **

**_Midnight._ **

"Show's over," Dana announces, when their slot's officially up. "Good job, everyone, good show."

The control room fills with a smattering of high fives from everyone except Jeremy, who says, "Do you know how long this game has been going on?"

"Four and a half hours in real time," Natalie says, "two-hundred-and-five game minutes?"

" _Ten thousand years_ ," Jeremy replies. "This game has been going on since the _dawn of history_ , and will continue to go on, overtime after overtime, history spanning forward in increments of twenty-minutes one after the other until the end of time."

"Well, that was bleak," Dana says.

"The truth is harsh," says Jeremy hollowly.

The Islanders fumble a pass, and for a brief, fleeting, breathtaking moment, everyone watches in slow motion as the puck bounces and rolls into the Rangers' net. No one dares say anything, which turns out to be wise, as the goal is called back by the refs, having taken place a second after the buzzer signaled the end of the third overtime period.

Jeremy whimpers.

Dan's phone chimes. He glances down. 

_**nailed him!!!!!!** _

A series of texts immediately follow.

_**not literally that wd b police brutality** _

_**just cuffed him warrant & all legit** _

_**thx for your help you rock** _

_**ps no matter what rosa or santiago say none of this was my fault** _

_**pps i will send your mother a gift basket for Shavuot** _

There's a knock on the control room door; Detective Diaz is rapping her knuckle against the window. Dan steps out.

"So we're done here," Diaz says. 

"I heard," Dan says, holding up his phone so she can see the screen. Peralta's latest text is simply _**:DDDDDDDDDDD**_. "So what happens now?"

"Our squad's bringing in the perp to the station," Diaz says.

"And you can call the uh, slavemasters—" Boyle starts.

"—team owners," Dan says.

"—and tell them to," Boyle gestures grandly, "unleash their hounds."

"Right," Dan says. "And you still need this kept… on the down-low."

"This guy already has a copycat," Boyle says apologetically. "That really would be best until we've got that entire crew locked behind bars."

"Well, that's not going to be a conflict of interest for me at all," Dan says.

Diaz's level of caring appears to be just under minimal. "We're going now," she states.

"Bye!" Boyle waves back as they leave. "Thanks for your help! Sorry your show was canceled!"

The door swings closed behind them. "Postponed," Casey says, out of nowhere, making Dan jump.

"Jesus, someone should put a bell on you," he says, and starts following Casey through the bullpen.

Casey snorts. "Or I could just switch shoes with you," he says, leading Dan back to the control room, just in time for Dana to say, "Hey there, Squeaky." Casey grins at Dan.

"Ready to go live?" Dana asks. "Network's pushing back the schedule, you're gonna be on for a game recap and general update when the game's over."

"Good thing I didn't throw out my script," Dan notes, and Casey rolls his eyes. "I just need to make a couple phone calls, and I'm all yours."

Dana nods absently. "Make 'em quick," she says, already busy with overlooking graphics.

**_*_ **

Dan and Casey wait for a cue, mic'd up in the studio. It's the fourth period of overtime. Casey is watching the feed on his phone.

Dan pushes his mic aside. "I really did think the game would like, _end_ , when the whole cops thing blew over," he whispers.

He takes a look at the screen. The players are skating slowly, sluggishly. One of them falls over and kind of just glides to the bench until he's stopped by the friction. Someone helps him up and takes his place on the ice.

"I mean, look at them," Casey says, "they're too exhausted to play anymore."

"I guess it is a little sad," Dan admits, switching the mic back on.

"Look at you." Casey grins. "Getting emotional over a hockey game."

"Someone just end it," Jeremy says brokenly in their earpiece. "Someone. Anyone. I can't take it anymore."

"I don't think my marriage can take it," Natalie pipes in. 

Dan nods in the direction of the control room. "See, _that's_ emotional."

**_*_ **

Six hours and four minutes after the game started, it ends with the Rangers scoring a weak, rather accidental goal on a borderline inert Islanders goalkeeper. Joyous shouts and claps ring through the studio.

"I quit," Jeremy declares in their ears.

"Quit after my show's done," says Dana. "We're on in sixty, get ready."

Jeremy groans. "Sports are the absolutely _worst_."

Casey grins at Dan. "Sports are the best, eh?"

" _Eh_. Oh god, all this hockey is Canadiafying you, isn't it," Dan says with mock horror. "That's it. No more hockey till…"

"…Game 2," Casey finishes for him brightly. "The day after tomorrow."

"…I'll take it," Dan sighs.

"And in five," Kim counts, "four…three…two…" 

"Good evening. I'm Casey McCall, alongside Dan Rydell, and like you, we've spent the last six hours watching the thrilling adventure—"

"—or bizarro twilight zone—"

"—that was tonight's quadruple overtime Game 1 of the Eastern Conference NHL Final. We're going to talk about that—"

"—and then we're going to talk about that some more, right after this break. You're watching _Sports Night_ on CSC, so stick around."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, while we're (almost kinda) on topic, happy upcoming Shavuot :-)


End file.
